


Faith

by a_taller_tale



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/pseuds/a_taller_tale
Summary: “You don’t have to stay.”Wash puts his hand on Tucker’s free shoulder. “I’m not leaving you.”“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic!"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zambo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zambo/gifts).



> Zambo prompted: tuckington - "you don't have to stay"

“You don’t have to stay.” 

Wash puts his hand on Tucker’s free shoulder. “I’m not leaving you.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic! I’m not hurt. I’m just stuck.” It would figure Tucker was taken out by some unstable alien temple ruins after all the actual battles and other dangerous shit they’d been into over the years. He’s pinned under a stone wall. Caboose and Andersmith have gone for extra help. 

It’s a good thing Smith was with them today. Wash seems really serious about not leaving him alone and Caboose would get lost on his own. Wash is totally overreacting. He’ll be _fine._

They won’t know what the damage is until Tucker is dug out, but for right now all he feels is pressure against his legs and his right shoulder. A lot of pressure. Half his torso, his left arm, and his head are free. It’s a good thing they wear armor in the field all the time. 

“They’ll be back soon. Smith is fast,” Wash says softly. 

“Well, good, can you stop acting like I’m dying or something?” 

“You really don’t feel anything? You’re sure.” Wash makes to adjust the healing unit, but it’s already working, its glow and soft hum comforting. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, dude. Stop motherhenning me.” He looks away from where Wash is holding onto him like this is some kind of a soap opera. It’s a little awkward. Doesn’t he know you’re supposed to keep trauma victims calm? Wash is not a soothing presence. 

He wishes he could see what Wash’s face is doing under that helmet. He has a really expressive face. If Tucker can see Wash’s face he’ll know how bad this is. 

The other guys need to hurry the fuck up so he stops having weird thoughts now. 

“I had some cats back home,” Wash says out of nowhere. 

_What the fuck?_ “What?” 

“Before I joined the UNSC. I was a kid and I heard them crying. They were trapped under some debris in the neighbor’s scrap yard.” 

“So you’re saying I remind you of your cats. You’re talking about your love of cats while I’m trapped and can’t get away.” Wash is trying to do that really weird roundabout pep talk thing he likes doing and Tucker really isn’t in the mood for it. “Hey, can you take off my helmet?” He gestures toward his pinned arm with his free one, to explain why he can’t do it himself, just in case Wash hasn’t noticed. 

“Why?” Agent High-Alert asks. “Do you feel like you’re having trouble breathing?” But he’s already moving to do it and Tucker wasn’t having trouble breathing, but the fresh air is good. Feels way less claustrophobic and it’s a beautiful day outside. 

Wash follows suit and it takes a second of wondering why for Tucker to remember that Wash wouldn’t be able to hear him without the radio. He wants to be able to hear if Tucker goes into distress. Fuck. 

There’s a minute of awkward empty silence, with only the weight of Wash’s hand on his shoulder keeping him from panicking. He knows he shouldn’t try to move, but he wants _out._

“The fancy private school Junior’s at,” Tucker starts. “I guess some of the kids have cats at home. Junior asked me if he could have one, and I said yeah, as long as he can hide it in his room. It’ll be good practice for girls. He’s about to hit those teen years. Should get some experience hiding pussy.” 

Wash snorts. 

Tucker’s little feeling of triumph is interrupted when his stomach suddenly turns. It doesn’t feel like he needs to throw up, but the nausea means he’s in pain underneath the meds from the healing unit. It’s sad he knows that feeling so well. Maybe he’s more hurt than he thought. 

It’s worse when the guys come. 

They’ve brought equipment, but Caboose and Andersmith try to lift a piece on their own one more time first. Tucker screams. 

There are tears in the corners of his eyes when he comes back to reality and he hates himself for being a little bitch about this but it _hurts._

“Tucker… Tucker.” Wash is in his face and he realizes Wash’s hands are against his jaw, cupping Tucker’s face as his eyes roll in his head. “Look at me.” 

Tucker obeys the order instinctively, focusing on Wash’s face, a whimper still fading in his throat as the pain throbs and fades to a dull roar. 

“They’re going to need to use a jack to get this stuff off of you. It’s…” He’s going to say it’s gonna hurt. Why would he say that? Fuck you, Washington. 

“I’m going to be right here with you,” Wash says instead. 

The jack is worse. Tucker can feel every little movement when they’re getting it in position and he can’t focus at all on what they’re telling him. Instructions. To hold very still probably. There’s not much he can move anyway. 

Instead he tries to hang on to Wash’s voice, all calm and even. “I’ve got you, Tucker.” Wash makes a face like he’s bracing for the pain with Tucker as they start the jack and lift the wall off of him. 

Tucker screams again when the weight shifts and his teeth are chattering. It’s fucking agony and he can’t _think,_ but Wash is still talking him through it, his fingers pressing into Tucker’s skin as Tucker’s freed. Wash stays with him when they lift him onto the stretcher and get him into a vehicle. 

“You’re okay. You’re safe,” Wash says, and Tucker believes him. “I’ve got you.” 


End file.
